


a peek inside

by Irrwisch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Eating Disorders, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Husk doesn't have his shit together, POV Husk, Self-Harm, Short, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: On Day Four, he peeks into the kitchen to see if they all get their fair share of food. They do. That's good. He doesn't get any. That's good. It just wasn't supposed to hurt when he saw them happy and content without even missing him.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	a peek inside

Ah, shit.

He’s pathetic. He knew that, sure, but - he didn’t need to make it so obvious, even to himself. Just what the fuck is wrong with him?!  
He takes a deep breath and gulps the salvia down. He doesn’t even want to look. It always looks disgusting as shit and by now, he can even see it behind closed eyes. He blindly reaches out to flush the toilet, and with the water, his shame disappears as well. He wishes it wasn’t so. He wishes there’d be no fucking shame to wash away. But he - he couldn’t. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

It had felt normal, in the beginning. After all, who wouldn’t wolf down any sort of food they’d find in a new enviroment? Husk surely had. And the puking happened too, sometimes, but - but it had felt _normal_.  
And to be fair, most of that “food” had been garbage anyway so throwing it up had probably been the wiser choice in the long run. Not that it mattered, of course - it wasn’t like he could die again or some shit like that.  
But then - he got used to it. To life in Hell, that is. Once you got the hang of things, it wasn’t that bad, honestly - sure it was a shit-show, but after all, it wasn’t like his life had been glamourous in the slightest. And yet - it wasn’t much of a punishment, was it? Living down here, in Hell? Yeah, it sucked to know that whoever sat at the gate or fucking where-ever considered you to be enough of a whoreson to rot down here with the worst of the worst.

And then; he met Alastor.  
He knew who the fuck the red dude was - he was neither blind nor stupid. But truth be told, why the Red Man considered him to be a friend of any sort would probably elude Husk for eternity. But the deer was fun to be around, so there would only be the token amount of protest.  
The real problem was the food.  
Alastor, as Husk quickly learned, loved cooking. He cooked in large quantities and demanded all the food to be eaten before anyone was allowed to even move a muscle.  
He didn’t want to eat that much, but Alastor wasn’t a guy to say _no_ to. So he ate. And he ate too much.  
So, after Alastor left, he’d grace the toilet with its fair share. It worked. He ate, he vomitted, he felt bad, he ate nothing and then the circle would continue.

Now, the Hotel. The princess kept calling it The Happy Hotel, but Alastor had changed the sign uptop to Hazbin and frankly, Husk didn’t give two shits what this hellhole wanted to be called anyway. He just wanted to be left alone so he could get drunk in fucking peace.  
Sadly, Blondie wanted dinners together, to “ _strengthen our bond as friends!_ ” Whatever the fuck that meant. But protests were not allowed and - Alastor was the cook. Knowing him, that asshole probably volunteered for that first chance he got and Husk suspected the cooking was the only reason Alastor wanted in on this project in the first place.

The food was _good_. Radio’s food was always good. That was part of the problem. Sitting next to Niffty and the Spider Slut, he wolfed down the food in front of him.   
The Spider made a joke about stuffing someone’s something down his throat, but Husk didn’t listen. Who gave a rat’s ass about what Angel Dust said? There was food to be had!

It led him to his current predicament.   
He’s been sitting on the floor of his bathroom for quite a while now. He doesn’t want to get up. What for? For one, he’s sure to throw up again if he moves too fast. Second, what’s the point? He wouldn’t cry. Fucking no, he wouldn’t. He’s in Hell, fuck, he’s _supposed_ to be miserable!  
He plucks at his wings. Everyone else seems fine though, the back of his head whispers. Fucker’s supposed to be quiet. He tears out a feather and looks at it. He hates it. It’s one ass-ugly son-of-a-bitch-feather. He doesn’t remember what he looked like before.   
Who’d want to remember his fucking face anyway.

For two straight days he’s been drunk now. Not his normal drunk, but completely and utterly stone-faced drunk.   
He doesn’t think he’s left the bar. Which is - good. No food at the bar. He’s thought about it. He’s such an asshole. He took food away from the others. He took it away from Niffty, the Spider, Blondie and her girlfriend - he took it away from them. They need it more than him, and he took it away. He didn’t _even ask_ , what a selfish prick he is. He should be punished. Did Alastor even eat anything? What if he took his food away?  
He doesn’t want to interact with them ever again. He doesn’t deserve it and they’re better off without his ugly ass anyway. Leaving ain’t an option - Alastor would just drag him back and _demand_ an explanation. Husk wouldn’t be able to give him one. What would he say? Alastor didn’t understand _feelings_.  
No, hiding behind the bar was better.  
Nodoy expected him to eat anything while he was completely smashed. The others could get their well-deserved food. It was better if they got used to eating without him. They wouldn’t miss him. Nobody ever had in life, so why should someone in Hell?

On Day Four, he peeks into the kitchen while they’re eating. He sees them sitting there, enjoying their meal and - oh shit, it looks fucking good. It smells really good, too. He’s half-tempted to just go, but he contains himself. He just wanted to see whether they miss him or not and they don’t seem to. Good. That’s what he wants.  
This is what it’s supposed to be like.  
Just - he didn’t expect it to hurt.

On Day Nine, there’s something different. He peeks at them daily, because he wants to make sure they all get enough to eat.   
There’s always been an extra chair - his chair.  
Today, that chair is gone. He scans the kitchen, but he can’t see it anywhere. They removed his chair, his - his outstanding invitation. He’s no longer wanted. He’s no longer welcome.  
Good.  
Good.  
He isn’t crying. Why should he?  
They’ve done exactly as he wanted - they removed him from their midst.   
On Day Ten, he doesn’t go to peek.

He tries to fill the hole inside of him with booze but it doesn’t work. No matter how much shit he pours in, the hole stays and worse, it even gets bigger. He hides whenever he sees someone approach.   
They cut him out, so he’s doing them a favour.   
Shit, he’s so hungry.

On Day Sixteen, he raids the fridge at night. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop either. He’s so hungry, and he’s lonely and miserable, he just wants the hole inside him to be filled.  
So he eats. He eats everything he can get into his greedy paws. It doesn’t matter what it is - he just shoves it down.   
The hole doesn’t fill.  
He eats more.

He’s disgusting.  
He’s so fucking disgusting.  
There’s no food left, and the hole inside of him didn’t get any smaller.  
What are the others supposed to eat now? They’re gonna know, and they’re gonna hate him.  
Fuck, he wants to cry, but mainly he just wants to puke.  
…shit. Shit, someone’s coming.  
He can’t face anyone on the scene of his crime. He doesn’t want to be seen. So he runs.

He’s shivering. He’s been puking for half an hour already and slowly, his body is giving in. He’s crying now. What’s the point in denying anymore? He wishes it would stop, but he doesn’t know how.  
He’s disgusting, and alone, and utterly worthless.   
He flaps his wings to keep his balance and he wants to rip all the feathers out. He’s - he’s gonna do that tomorrow. For now, all he can do is snivel here, like a dirty little pig.  
He hopes whoever wandered in the kitchen wouldn’t figure out what he did. He couldn’t stand the looks. He couldn’t stand their thoughts of him being useless anyway.  
They’re not wrong, but -  
he doesn’t want to see it.  
He coughs up fluids now. That means it’s almost over. He sits back on his legs and looks up at the ceiling. Maybe he shouldn’t leave the bathroom ever again. No-one would disturb him here, right?   
He rips a feather out and looks at it. He turns it over in his claws and thinks about going away. They’re better off without him and when he’s gone, they don’t have to look at him ever again. Alastor’s a people’s person, he could sit at the front desk easily enough.  
He wants to eat something.  
He’s so hungry.  
He tears at his ears and wails.


End file.
